


Blossoming Over You

by unfoldingbliss



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: First Kiss, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-07-08 00:57:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19860922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unfoldingbliss/pseuds/unfoldingbliss
Summary: Kisses are plentiful, an everyday occurrence that Bart might always hunger for.But there’s another type of kiss. One that he occasionally sees between Grandma and Grandpa, Joan and Jay, even M’gann and Conner. A kiss Bart never fathomed he could take part in or enjoy. [Eduardo/Bart]





	Blossoming Over You

Bart often recollects the kisses his parents shared.

Not so much on the lips but on the forehead, on the cheek, even the shoulder. They would kiss each other as often as they would kiss him. Each a reminder he was loved, something the Reach could never take away.

The last kiss he remembers involved tears and fingertips.

His mother had wiped at her cheeks, frustrated at her own helplessness. With eyes red and smile labored, his father brushed her fingers against his lips, whispering something against her ear. Something Bart never had the chance nor the courage to ask about. A wretched sob escaped his mother then, and she all but collapsed as his father ran off, the faintest streak of white and red visible to Bart alone.

That last kiss was the last time he’d seen his father, too.

Kisses were scarce thereafter. His mother protected more than loved, hid more than consoled. Not that Bart would ever blame her. Mom didn’t take away Dad and Dad didn’t take away Mom. It was the Reach that killed his father, that left his mother hollow and left Bart without love and gentle kisses before he fell asleep each night.

And once his mother died, kisses ceased altogether.

Bart often tried to shove the memories away. Of his parents and his life before imprisonment. Littered with panic and strife and paranoia, yes, but it had been _his_ life with his parents. They’d made him happy. He’d made them happy. And the Reach and Blue Beetle squashed that happiness, did everything they could to extinguish the light that burned beneath Bart's chest.

But they hadn’t tried hard enough. And Bart Allen took back what they stole.

Now, two years after traveling to the past, kisses are abundant. Grandma (or Iris when she’s within earshot) often greets him with a kiss on the cheek, and Grandpa sometimes kisses him on the forehead before he heads out on a mission. Joan and Jay kiss him whenever he returns home, happy he’s made it through the day unscathed. Mrs. Reyes ruffles his hair and kisses him right beneath his eyes, and Milagro insists that if Tye is still with Asami by her freshman year, she wants _Bart_ to be her first kiss (nevermind that she’s ten and will have hundred more puppy-dog crushes by then).

Bart returns each kiss with one of his own. He particularly likes it when he can play with Joan or Grandma, kiss them on the hand and tell them how pretty they are. It reminds him of his childhood, when he and his mother would dance around their shoddy sanctuaries to songs his mother only half-remembered.

Kisses are plentiful, an everyday occurrence that Bart might always hunger for.

But there’s another type of kiss. One that he occasionally sees between Grandma and Grandpa, Joan and Jay, even M’gann and Conner. A kiss Bart never fathomed he could take part in or enjoy.

A kiss he’s thought of since he caught sight of Eduardo last week.

They’ve been friends for well over a year. Bart helps at the meta-rehabilitation center in his spare time, between missions and homework and other non-hero responsibilities. At first, he wanted to look after Nathaniel, make sure he recovered and adjusted to his new life as a peer counselor. But a month into volunteering, he spotted a mop of black hair struggling with a few boxes and zipped over to help.

“Hey, you’re Dr. Dorado’s son, right? Ed?” Bart asked from the other side of the boxes. “My name’s Bart! I’m volunteering here. Do you need any help?”

Eduardo scowled, brows furrowed above dark brown eyes. “Not really. I was doing fine on my own.”

Bart smiled at Eduardo’s resistance. What was it with boys in this era and the need to prove themselves by… carrying boxes on their own? Too retro for his tastes. “You think so? Because from where I was standing, seemed like these boxes were gonna tumble outta your arms and onto the floor.”

“Thanks for the concern,” Eduardo replied, the hint of a smirk traveling up his lips, “But I have it from here. Discúlpeme.”

A flash of golden light blinded Bart and he rubbed at his eyes, forgetting he’d been holding boxes not even a moment prior. He blinked three or four times before his vision returned, and Eduardo and his cargo were nowhere in sight.

It might have confused or frustrated another teen, but Bart's smile returned, wider and more excited than before. “That’s right—hello, Megan! Dude can teleport! So crash, so very, very crash.”

He’d spent the rest of his shift following Eduardo and helping him despite his protests. Through his constant prattling, Bart divulged he was on the same team as Virgil and Jaime. Eduardo rolled his eyes at the remark, but his eyes seemed to soften at the mention of his fellow runaway, “No wonder you’re so annoying. You’re just like them.”

“You mean itching to do some good through the use of my stellar powers and absurdly good looks? I’ll take that as a compliment, so thanks, amigo!”

Eduardo stilled and stared at Bart, his eyes narrowed and his right cheek sucked in-between his teeth. After another beat, he turned away from Bart and headed towards the loading dock. “I wouldn’t call you _absurdly_ good-looking.”

Bart’s heart stuttered, and he almost didn’t respond, unused to anyone other than Grandma or Joan going along with his flamboyant boasts. Jaime groaned, Cassie laughed, Virgil all but shoved him across the room, but Eduardo…

“Ha! So you _do_ think I’m good-looking!" Bart sped back to Eduardo's side, catching the faintest whiff of cedar. "If not absurdly, then how about exceptionally or strikingly? Maybe even phenomenally?”

“Dios mio, you don’t let up, do you?”

“Nope! All a part of the deluxe speedster friendship package!”

“Is it possible to return you for a full refund?”

“Oh man, you’re funny! We should definitely hang out more often.”

And so they did.

Bart first greets Nathaniel and then speeds through the entire rehabilitation center to catch sight of Eduardo and his unkempt hair. Once he does, Eduardo assigns him tasks, often ones where they can chat and swap witty comebacks. Sometimes, he stays so late Dr. Dorado takes him and Eduardo out for pizza or Korean BBQ before he returns home to Joan and Jay. Those are his favorite shifts.

Eduardo’s different. He teases Bart when no one else will. Challenges him to races he might actually win (though Bart always edges him out). He’s fun in a way that’s different, a kind of fun Bart can’t explain. His chest seems a little warmer every time he sees him, his legs a little weaker every time Eduardo taps him on the shoulder. One time, his breath all but evaporated from his lungs as Eduardo inched closer, his eyes glued to a video Bart had begged him to watch.

But that moment had nothing on last week.

Bart greeted Nathaniel and Dr. Dorado and made his way towards the counseling rooms. Eduardo was usually there at that time of day. His fingers felt electric and his stomach flipped like a pancake tossed high above a hot skillet. A little irritating, but still exciting. He chuckled at his body, at the thrilling sensations only Eduardo seemed to induce. 

And then, Bart saw him.

Eduardo walked out a door down the hallway, accompanied by a few younger teens. His smile was easy and his hair was as messy as ever, but neither produced the vivid flush washing over Bart's cheeks.

It was summer in New Mexico, so Bart should have expected to see him in a short-sleeve T-shirt or a tank top. However, the black tank top that hugged Eduardo’s skin, that revealed his lean shoulders and bronzed arms short-circuited Bart’s mind until only one thought bounced around his skull, growing so loud and large he could feel the words throb behind his eyes.

_Kiss him, kiss him, kiss him, kiss HIM, KISS HIM._

“Hey, Bart!” Eduardo waved and jogged towards him, his smile widening. Bart gaped as he stopped within arm’s length, the delicate curve of his biceps exceptionally noticeable underneath the fluorescent lights. His breath shortened as Eduardo lifted his hand and shook Bart’s shoulder, and he pleaded with his stupid brain to create a single, coherent thought that didn’t involve tackling his friend to the floor. “How are you doing? I heard about that mission in Brasília from Virgil. Sounded pretty crash.”

“Brasília? Virgil?” Bart repeated, unable to process much besides Eduardo’s touch and the wave after wave of heat it spilled across his body. “Oh! Um, yeah. Yeah, that went well. Super well. In fact, it went the well-est a mission’s ever gone!”

Eduardo blinked and cocked his head, taking in Bart’s tense posture, “You okay, amigo? You look a little red.”

“Me, red? As if!” Bart swatted at empty space, his laugh painstakingly tight in his throat. “Just a little sun from good ol’ Brazil, you know? I needed it, too, compliments my hair a little more.”

“But wasn’t your mission at night?” Eduardo squinted and took a step forward, closing the gap between them, fingers still pressed into his shoulder. Bart glanced at his lips, full and pink and glossed with some kind of chapstick. “You sure you’re okay? I think you’re perspiring.”

And then Eduardo did the absolute unthinkable—he moved his hand from Bart’s shoulder to his forehead, his palms soft and dry against his clammy skin. “Oh, you _are_ a little warm. Maybe you’re coming down with something. Here, let’s get you to the infirmary. I’m sure someone there can help.”

Before Bart could further protest, Eduardo moved closer and wrapped his bare arms around Bart’s shoulders. Instantaneously, Bart felt Eduardo’s hips flush against his waist. Felt his fingers curl around his skin. Inhaled the lavender and cedar scent that clung to Eduardo like a clump of vines.

Time outside of super speed dragged, but this moment where Eduardo latched onto him, enveloped both of them in sparkling golden light, seemed to end too quickly. Perhaps within a single beat of his hummingbird heart.

“Take it easy today. Just zeta home if you need to,” Eduardo said once the nurse assured they would take care of Bart, “Text me if you need anything, okay?”

“Ye—Yeah,” Bart nodded his head, unsure if his face could warm any further. “I’ll go home. Probably for the best.”

A few more seconds stretched between them. Eduardo’s gaze dipped and caught onto Bart’s shaking fingers. He leaned in, his hand between them, and Bart recalled his father kissing his mother’s fingertips with subtle, heartfelt tenderness.

Eduardo grasped onto Bart’s hand, but he did not lift them to his face. Instead, he squeezed Bart’s fingers and then pulled away, a faint grin adorning his lips. “I’ll see you next week.”

Bart tried to smile, but it was so difficult to move. To even breathe in Eduardo’s overwhelming presence. He never wanted him to leave. He could stare at him for hours and never once sigh or yawn or look away.

So he nodded again and watched Eduardo leave. 

“Wait—that’s it?” Cassie asks five days later. She’s the first person Bart tells. He’s not too sure why. Maybe she’ll know what to do. “You didn’t tell him anything after that?”

“No, I told you—I was absolutely tongue-tied! Spellbound!” Bart throws his arms above his head and leans into his chair, the cool metal doing little to soothe his nerves. “I saw him in that tank top and I freaked. My face just got hotter and hotter and he got closer and closer and I don’t think I’ve ever stood that still in my entire _life_. His hips literally pinched my waist, Cassie. Our cheeks practically touched!”

Cassie takes a long sip of her boba tea (honey rose, extra sweet) and glances out the window, watching a group of fashionable college students stroll past. She cocks her head and asks, eyes still glued to the group and their laughter, “So you’re gonna ask him out tomorrow, right?”

Bart’s pulse jumps beneath his skin, “What?”

“Well, you like him, right?” Cassie turns her head back towards him, her posture relaxed, “If you like him and you wanna kiss him, that’s what you have to do. You ask him out. That’s what I did with Tim.”

“Wait. It’s that easy?” Bart's shoulders drop and his fingers slack above the white tabletop. “It doesn’t seem that way.”

“Well obviously, it doesn’t seem that way when your best friend is Jaime Reyes,” Cassie giggles. “He makes the biggest deal out of everything. The whole team knows he has a massive crush on Traci, but he’s too afraid to do anything about it.”

“Because he doesn’t know if she likes him back,” Bart points out, defending his friend’s indecisive nature. “Me and him are on the same mode. I have no idea if Eduardo likes me, if he just wants to be friends, if he even likes boys. And what if...”

Bart trails, noticing Cassie’s large, cheeky smile, “What is it?”

“I can’t believe you’re so dense. Actually, wait. You’re a boy from a post-apocalyptic future. This is definitely believable.”

Bart scoffs, pursing his lips, “And what am I so dense about?”

“Gods, Bart!” Cassie slaps her hand against her face and pushes her body forward, stare unwavering, “He likes you, too! I could tell just from your rambling. No way "just a friend" holds onto your fingertips like that. Sounds straight out of Ovid if you ask me.”

“Ovid?”

“He’s a Roman poet, and that’s not the point! I’m telling you Eduardo likes you. He probably wants to kiss you as much as you wanna kiss him.”

“You think Eduardo wants to kiss me?” Bart’s eyes gloss over and his mind wanders, dares to imagine Eduardo’s face inching closer to his, warm lips pressed against his and soft hands settled over his hips. Goosebumps prick his arms and his chest flutters.

Was Cassie right? Could Eduardo like him?

Could he really know what it was like, to kiss and adore as his parents had?

Cassie grins, softer this time. She reaches out and cups her hand over his. “There’s only one way to find out.”

So the following day, he stands outside the rehabilitation center’s Zeta Tubes, Eduardo a few feet away. Heat sticks to his cheeks and seeps into his stomach. Combined with the nervous lightning crackling beneath his fingertips, and it might be worse than last week’s catastrophic hallway breakdown. 

Eduardo breaks the silence first, his thumbs stuffed into his jean pockets. He’s wearing a red v-neck today—not as debilitating to stare at as the tank top, but still horrifyingly pleasant. “So what d'you wanna talk about?”

Bart breathes deep and counts to three. He hopes he doesn’t look weird—it’s something his mother taught him to do when his thoughts crowded his skull and he wanted to do too many things at once. Right now, he wants to take Eduardo’s hand and run to that Mexican bakery downtown. He wants to buy him a dozen los bigotes, maybe a few of those fruit empanadas (even if they’ll never be as good as his abuela’s). He wants to intertwine their fingers together and kiss Eduardo’s eyes and cheeks and lips and nose and neck at least twenty times. Fifty times. A hundred times.

 _Breathe, baby boy_ , his mother would coax, her hold on his arms firm yet reassuring. _Think of what you want first_.

He wanted to save Grandpa and Nathaniel first. Then he wanted to save Jaime and the world.

Now, he wants to ask a boy on a date.

“You remember last week? When I was sick?” Bart asks.

“Of course,” Eduardo rocks his feet against the grey pavement. “You really had me worried - you were so red!”

Bart laughs, enjoying the sound of Eduardo’s voice. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Like one of the Reach’s perfectly modified tomatoes.”

“I’d say redder than that.”

Another jolt of electricity surges through Bart’s body. “Well, I wasn’t—I wasn’t really sick.”

“You weren’t?” Eduardo tilts his head, considering Bart’s words.

“I mean, I was sick, but not like, you know, the bad sick?”

Eduardo smirks, “There’s a good sick?”

“Ugh, this is coming out all wrong,” Bart ducks his head and takes another deep breath. He concentrates on what he wants, on why he’s there with Eduardo. He thinks of picnic dates and long, hot afternoons by the beach. He wants that. Wants what the future denied his parents. “I’m trying to say that—I wasn’t red because I was sick. I was red because of ...”

He tapers, his legs shaking from being so still for so long. Bart's words linger in the air, and soon, Eduardo's eyes widen, perhaps unprepared for what's to come. But even if he rejects him, even if Cassie was wrong, there’s no turning back now.

“Because of you, Ed,” Bart confesses. His pulse plucks against his skin and his heart leaps into his throat, but it’s done. “I like you and I’d like to take you out. If that’s okay.”

The room stills, a comforting silence caresses the pair. There's a shift, a step forward, and Eduardo stares at Bart openly, warmly, the lights in his brown eyes dancing like fireflies. 

He had nothing to be afraid of.

“Yeah that’s-” Eduardo’s voice cracks, and he coughs, the tiniest hint of pink dusting his cheeks. Bart wants to kiss him. Ardently. “That’s more than okay. It’s crash. _Muy_ crash.”

Unfiltered joy erupts across Bart's chest and contagious excitement streams into his bloodstream. He likes him—a beautiful boy likes him. “Great! When should I pick you up? Saturday at six? Friday at seven? Sunday at noon? Maybe even in an hour?”

Eduardo chuckles, the sound deep and melodious and something Bart can listen to again and again, “Saturday at six sounds great, Bart.” He pauses, settling himself as his gaze softens. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too,” Bart shuffles closer, and that insistent desire to kiss Eduardo climbs to the forefront of his mind. Only this time, he doesn’t have to stop himself.

Instead of flushing, frozen in place, Bart darts towards Eduardo. It’s nothing more than a hasty, chaste peck on the cheek, but it satisfies Bart so very, very much. A giddy smile spreads across Eduardo's face and he reaches down, taking Bart's hand in his. He kisses the back of his palm, gently rubs at his knuckles. 

“You really don’t let up, huh?” Eduardo whispers, his eyes shimmering. 

“I really don’t,” Bart breathes out, and he leans into the kiss he knows will come. 

**Author's Note:**

> Title's taken from "Pink in the Night" by Mitski. 
> 
> Honestly, I didn't know what I was doing with this story. Someone on tumblr prompted me with kisses and my mind went "talk about Bart's parents" and I was like wow. I truly am a sad bitch, huh. Hopefully, it's coherent. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed!


End file.
